


Handcuffs Like Gold Foil (And Just as Delicate)

by D20Owlbear



Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 12 Days of Blasphemy Challenge (Good Omens), 5 Golden Rings, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale has been wanting to do this since at least the 16th century, BDSM, Blasphemy, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Collars, Consensual Kink, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Day 4: Kneeling, Day 5: Gold Rings, Face-Fucking, Golden Cockring, Kneeling, M/M, Other, Praise Kink, Rated R for Torques, Restraints, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Using Hatpins inapropriately, gold chains, idolatry, self-restraint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21857323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: Crowley kneels before Aziraphale in penance who drapes him in gold and finery. Crowley proves how "sorry" he is with his mouth.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570819
Comments: 23
Kudos: 182
Collections: 12 Days of Blasphemy, Break in Case of Emergency: Fluff and Love, Top Aziraphale Recs





	Handcuffs Like Gold Foil (And Just as Delicate)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much to atmilliways and sosobriet for prompt help!
> 
> Since I missed posting yesterday for Day 4: Kneeling, I combined it with Day 5: Gold Rings! So twice the word count limit, that's how it works, right? Hehehe.

“Angel,” Crowley groveled with a whine in his voice, shifting on his bare knees and enjoying the feeling of the overly plush carpet he’d ribbed Aziraphale for bringing into his flat only a few days ago. The thought occurred to him that his angel really was a bastard and must have been planning this scene for at least as many days as the rug had been here, probably longer. He ducked his head to hide a grin and did the best he could to watch Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye since he’d been told to look straight ahead. Sure, he wasn’t listening, but Crowley was  _ smart _ about not obeying. Always had been (at least, after he Fell he’d smartened up about it. Humans had lovely words like “malicious compliance” that he’d always liked after all).

“Do be quiet, dear.” Aziraphale replied back sharply, lips thinning in a tight frown as he looked over his shoulder and caught Crowley trying to peek at what Aziraphale was fiddling with. The angel sighed and  _ tsk _ ed his tongue with the back of his teeth, setting down thin, delicate chains on the bedside table. Not a one was thicker than a standard jewelry chain for a small pendant. They clinked softly and curled sinuously with a soft  _ shhshh _ sound of metal links piling, and Aziraphale stepped in front of Crowley, lifting his chin up to make eye contact with a single finger underneath his jaw.

“Now Crowley,” Aziraphale continued conversationally, as if Crowley wasn’t knelt before him naked and exposed, his quickly hardening cock standing to attention, even as he shivered from the coolly sharp gaze Aziraphale pinned him with. “ _ Do _ stop me if I’m wrong, my dear boy, but I believe I told you to strip, kneel just there, and keep your eyes to yourself. Did I not?”

Crowley grimaced dramatically, hands coming up as if to beg for mercy, but what came out of his mouth wasn’t at all what he’d intended. Damn his smart mouth to hell (again), “No.”

“No?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow pointedly, letting the silence between them stretch on, perhaps to let Crowley raise himself up out of the grave he’d begun to dig for himself, but instead he went for another shovelful of dirt unable to stop himself.

“You said ‘keep your eyes straight,’ Angel, and we  _ both _ know I can’t do anything straight. So really, it was your own fault.”

“Is that so…” Aziraphale murmured, tracing the pad of his index finger over Crowley’s jawline from just underneath his snake sigil at his ear to the tip of his chin and back again. It was a chaste, light touch and the demon swore it felt like a line of fire over his skin.

“Y– yes,” Crowley breathed, enraptured and captivated by Aziraphale’s touch and his eyes. 

“You see, my dear, I really don’t believe you.” Aziraphale murmured, letting his hand drop from Crowley’s face down to the column of his neck to continue his soft, slow strokes. “I think you’re trying to disobey me. And really, if that was your aim, you’re doing  _ wonderfully _ .” Aziraphale’s hand withdrew from Crowley’s skin entirely, pulling an airy whine from the back of the demon’s throat, bereft at the loss of contact.

Aziraphale stepped back to the delicate gold chains on the table and picked them up one by one, there were three in total, and turned to go down on one knee at Crowley’s feet. The angel hummed to himself, a slow happy tune, as he adjusted Crowley’s legs so that his ankles crossed and then looped a thin chain around them, the excess length brought out to the side. With a long, thin hatpin Aziraphale pulled from his waistcoat pocket, he tacked down each end of the chain so that it wouldn’t do anything to actually restrain Crowley so much as make noise with the bells atop the pins if Crowley so much as shifted. 

Moving up, Aziraphale wrapped another chain around Crowley’s wrists, gently pulled behind his back and with feather-light touches Aziraphale tied a loose bow with the gold. Two rings of gold around wrist and ankle. The third chain was looped around the bow at Crowley's wrists and the ends added to the hatpins by his ankles. By the time Aziraphale was finished and he rocked back to view the lithe curve of Crowley’s backside, his arms and legs tied in the flimsiest excuse of a restraint he could think of, Crowley was trembling. The demon’s skin was flushed from his shoulders to his arse and his toes curled in the thick carpet. The bells on the hatpins swayed slowly, not quite enough to make noise but right on the precipice, with every breath Crowley took and every shift of his toes and every clench of his fingers. The bow would, of course, untie itself unless Crowley held perfectly still. And so, he was restrained by nothing more than his desire to please Aziraphale. 

“Now, my love, how are you feeling? Penitent?” Aziraphale hummed, more than pleased with himself and the pretty picture his demon painted. He stood and pursed his lips in thought before pacing back to the bed and digging through Crowley’s blazer’s pockets before picking up his intelligent phone between two fingers.

“Good. Green.” Crowley’s voice was ragged and breathy, and Aziraphale smiled.

“Good.” Aziraphale typed in the passcode Crowley had taught him to the phone and clicked on the photograph icon. A loud shutter sound echoed through the room and Crowley flinched at the sudden noise, causing the bells on the hatpins to chime – high pitched and soft like a poet might hyperbolically describe their lover’s laughter. 

“Angel?” Crowley asked tentatively.

“Just a photo, my dear, so I can show you later how pretty you are, tied up for me and dripping in gold.” Aziraphale’s voice was starting to turn rough around the edges and he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, slipping a thick gold ring into his waistcoat pocket and picking up a heavy, flat torque necklace. “Head up, Crowley.” He murmured as he stepped in front of Crowley again, crowding him so that the tip of Crowley’s nose brushed against his tweed trousers as the demon at his feet obeyed. Crowley’s eyes were yellow from corner to corner and his pupils were round, both obvious signs of arousal, but more than that, what made Aziraphale shiver in anticipation under his many layers of clothing was the brief flash of a fang-tip when Crowley licked his lips.

“Very good, darling.” Aziraphale crooned, rewarding Crowley by carding his fingers through the demon’s hair, firm and unyielding, prompting a trembling jerk to run up Crowley’s spine. The hatpin bells chimed again. 

“Shh, be still.” The angel murmured, dragging his hand down Crowley’s neck and gripping firmly at the back of it. Crowley nearly buckled at the cool pinky ring digging into his skin in a way that should have been painful but instead was erotic and  _ safe _ . Aziraphale delighted in the feel of Crowley relaxing underneath his palm, feeling his shoulders untense and his back bow until Crowley’s forehead rested on his thigh. “Very good, my love, you’re doing wonderfully. I cannot wait to be proud of you at the end of this, my dear, you’re doing so well.”

Crowley shivered once more and moaned low under his breath, relaxed and overcome with an emotional rush of love for the man-shaped creature holding him safe and praising him. He shivered again when a thick plate of metal was placed around his neck, close enough to feel like a choker and wide enough to stretch out over his collarbones. A dull  _ clink _ sounded as some mechanism of it snapped into place, replacing Aziraphale’s hand on the back of his neck. Crowley made a faint sound of curiosity and shifted his weight back to look down and see what had been placed on his neck. 

The collar was heavy and reminded Crowley of the thick yokes attached to oxen before the plow. It was old too, Crowley could tell. An intricate, hand-wrought torque that looked to be from China in origin, made of pure gold with motifs of slithering snakes writhing bound in thick bands and chains with four delicate bells attached at each cardinal point of the collar. He was slowly coming to the realization that Aziraphale had been planning this for so long it made Crowley’s head spin.

“One more, dear boy,” Aziraphale knelt again in front of Crowley, pressing a too-soft kiss to his cheek. He reached down and grasped Crowley’s cock in his hand, pleased the ritual of putting on restraints had relaxed him enough that his erection had flagged, just enough. Slipping the fifth and final gold ring around Crowley’s cock he lubricated the band and warmed it comfortably with a thought before gently worked the demon’s bollocks through one at a time and shifting it so it would rest against Crowley’s pelvis. 

“Very good, Crowley, nary a peep from you, my  _ dear boy _ .” Aziraphale stroked lazily over Crowley’s cock to tease him into that whining mess he knew Crowley could get to like this and kissed along the column of his neck with too-light touches and hot breaths filled with implication. Crowley whined at the praise and the soft, warm hand dragging over his cock in long, lethargic strokes meant to tantalize and set his teeth on edge with anticipation. 

“Ah,” Aziraphale  _ tsk _ ed again, pulling back at the sounds from Crowley. “I haven’t forgotten what you’ve tried to get away with, my dear.” He stood and tugged lightly at the torque around Crowley’s throat, eyeing the bob of Adam’s apple. “You still haven’t answered my question, Crowley. Are you feeling penitent?” 

Crowley swallowed roughly and nodded, his eyes wide and caught on Aziraphale’s face, something like awe bleeding from molten gold eyes, matched so perfectly with the gold draped about the rest of his body. Aziraphale’s hands fell from Crowley once more and trailed slowly up his thighs, ghosting over his own erection with admirable self-restraint. Thick, deft fingers unbuttoned the trousers, held up by suspenders as they were, he only had to pull his cock from its confines rather than fuss with something so mundane as removing clothing.

_ Besides _ , Aziraphale thought to himself with a grin,  _ Crowley likes getting his mouth on me like this. _ And he was nothing if not a benevolent and merciful angel. Aziraphale carded his fingers through Crowley’s hair and twisted himself a grip of loose carmine curls, cradling the back of Crowley’s skull. 

“Are you ready, my dear?” He asked, stepping forward just close enough that the tip of his cock would be within reach of Crowley’s lips if he stretched forward. Crowley, true to form, attempted to surge forward, his mouth open wide and prepared to swallow Aziraphale as far as he could manage but was jerked back by the grip Azirpahale had in his hair. Crowley hissed, upset at being denied, but stilled as soon as he realized the bells were chiming. Aziraphale  _ tsk _ ed again.

“Oh, Crowley, and you were doing so well…” The angel murmured, running his thumbs along the side of Crowley’s hair without letting go of the tangled locks. Crowley whimpered, face falling at the look of disappointment Aziraphale wore before closing his eyes and leaning back into the cradling hold at the back of his head. “It’s alright my dear,” Aziraphale soothed, “You can still make it up to me, but  _ patience _ .”

Without waiting for a response from Crowley, Aziraphale released the hair in one of his hands and wrapped his hand underneath Crowley’s jaw, a finger and his thumb at the hinge of it forcing the demon at his feet to open his mouth as wide as it would go. He stepped forward again, until the tips of his shoes brushed the insides of Crowley’s knees and his legs were pressed up against bare torso. Crowley moaned loudly as Aziraphale fed him a thick cock, pushing inside until he couldn’t any more, the tip brushing the back of Crowley’s throat. Aziraphale moaned as well, low and luxurious. 

“I adore your mouth, my love.” Aziraphale whispered like a sacrosanct prayer. “You take me so well. Oh, darling, your  _ tongue _ .” Crowley hummed low in his throat, pleased for the praise even as a blush crept up his cheeks, and redoubled his efforts to wrap his serpentine tongue around Aziraphale and carefully leaned forward to gag himself on the cock down his throat. 

“Oh now, none of that,” Aziraphale scolded with a laugh in his voice, “I suppose if we can’t trust you restrain yourself, then I’ll have to do it for you.” Crowley went still, listening for any whisper of small bells chiming, but there was none. Instead, Aziraphale’s hands returned to Crowley’s hair and the both of them tightened until it was verging on painful, holding Crowley in place completely. 

“And do keep in mind, my dear, break your chains and this all stops.” It was a warning just as much as it was a reminder of how to stop the scene if needed. Crowley only hollowed his cheeks and sucked, wrenching a groan from Aziraphale’s throat at the press of fangs on the side of his prick. Without any further warning, the angel pulled his hips back and set a steady back-and-forth, relishing the wet heat of Crowley’s mouth and the drag of his cock over tongue and soft palate and throat as well as the ever-present feel of the smooth sides of Crowley’s fangs with every thrust. 

Crowley quaked in Aziraphale’s hands, trembling and leaning the majority of his weight on the angel’s legs and doing his best to keep his tongue involved in the facefucking, floating in a state of utter bliss at being bound and used and held so  _ gently _ even as moans of pleasure rumbled in his chest and throat. The demon lost himself in the push and pull and the rhythm of Aziraphale’s hips, even when he sped up and it was all Crowley could to do focus enough on his own painful arousal and Aziraphale’s tight fistfuls of his hair to keep him grounded. 

Crowley cried out, snapping back into the moment when Aziraphale’s hips stuttered and spilled himself down Crowley’s throat. He swallowed and drank his angel down, using the sort of muscle control in his esophagus that a snake had in spades to milk every last drop Aziraphale had in him and to pull that shiver of almost-oversensitivity Crowley lived for from him. 

Aziraphale tugged gently at Crowley’s hair until he’d been drawn off his cock. Immediately he fell to his knees in front of Crowley and pressed innumerable kisses into his skin, across Crowley’s face and neck and over his shoulders. 

“My darling boy,” Aziraphale breathed, with something that twinged in the back of Crowley’s head and reminded him of worship. He almost didn’t notice when Aziraphale’s hand slid down his torso and wrapped around his cock. “My dearest, my sweet. You’ve done so well, I am very proud of you my love. So still, so  _ good _ .” 

Crowley keened under his breath, his head lolling to the side and his shoulders tense with the desire to lean forward against Aziraphale. His arms and legs shook and the bells chimed merrily as if there were some wind in the room blowing them about rather than Crowley’s trembling running through the thin chains affecting them. Aziraphale kept a close eye on the pins and chains holding Crowley back even as he continued to kiss deep bruises into Crowley’s neck above the torque collar, whispering praise and encouragement every time Crowley tensed his hips and aborted a thoughtless thrust up against Aziraphale’s hand. 

Crowley’s cock was weeping and the fluid was more than enough lubricant for Aziraphale’s teasing hand, stroking from root to tip and back down again with a twist of his wrist to run his fingers over the slit at the tip. 

“Yes, you’re doing so well, my dear boy. Come for me, whenever you like, my dear. You’ve done so well, and I’m quite proud of you. I love you, Crowley.” Aziraphale murmured, his lips brushing softly against the snake sigil high up on Crowley’s cheekbone. 

Trembling, with a sobbing cry, Crowley leaned his head against Aziraphale’s lips and came. His eyes shot open and he was unable to keep his hips from jerking forward, the bells chiming distinctly in time with each stutter and Aziraphale stroking him through it, whispering sweet assurances in his ear, cheek to cheek. 

“Hnnrg,” Crowley attempted to speak, lips dry and tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, before giving up and collapsing into Aziraphale, uncaring that it pulled at the chains enough to loose them and pluck the pins from their place in the carpet. 

Aziraphale immediately removed his hand from Crowley’s cock, snapped his fingers and cleaned the mess of bodily fluids and chains and bands, all except for the torque.

“Alright, my dear?” He stroked from shoulder to elbow on Crowley’s arm, firm and slow to ground him back into his body, unworried by the length of time it took Crowley to respond. He was always a bit more scrambled after having to hold himself back. But he did take the time to shuffle them both so he could cross his legs and sit on the floor and cuddle Crowley, wrapping his arms around lithe body. 

“Hmm,” Crowley nodded sleepily, nuzzling into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck with a fucked out grin on his lips. “‘M good. So’re you. ‘S good.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Torque is based on this one here](https://image.invaluable.com/housePhotos/EliteAuctioneers/57/622757/H21053-L140961376.jpg)
> 
> Of course, turned gold and the motifs changed to fit Crowley and Aziraphale. Turns out, Aziraphale makes a hell of a goldsmith.


End file.
